


Midsummer Stroll

by 0_yngve



Series: Aching Bones, Aching Hearts [4]
Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, Opowiadania Muminków | Die Mumins | The Moomins (Stop Motion 1977), 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Almost Kiss, Autistic Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Chronic Pain, Disability, Disabled Author, Disabled Character, Disabled Snusmumriken | Snufkin, M/M, Moominpappa and Little My are there but only for a few sentences, Mutual Pining, Physical Disability, Pre-Relationship, Queer author, Trans Male Character, Trans Snusmumriken | Snufkin, also props to my boyfriend for being my cheerleader i love him sm, autistic author, hurt/comfort elements, i will make that a tag even if it's only my own fics, i've gotten stuck many times and now you all have to see what it's like, it's not super relevant but it's there and in like two sentences, snufkin's body: oooh a walk... it'd be a shame if ... something happened ......, snufkin: ill take a walk to clear my head, they're gay, trans author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:27:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23471680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0_yngve/pseuds/0_yngve
Summary: Snufkin promised he was going to Midsummer. Moomintroll had just been so nervous asking him. Like he truly believed he would refuse. Or say he would come but only stay for twenty minutes before running off without so much as a goodbye.It wouldn’t hurt so much if it wasn’t accurate.Party preparations were well underway for the bonfire slated to begin at sundown. Moominmamma was cooking and baking up a storm. Moominpappa was fiddling with the record player. Snorkmaiden hung streamers and lights all across the yard, and, true to fashion, Little My seemed to be helping by tearing them down.Moomintroll emerged from the house with two chairs in each arm and a coil of baling string in his mouth. Snufkin quickly turned round and made to find cover in the trees before they could make eye contact.Maybe he needed to take a walk.
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Series: Aching Bones, Aching Hearts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688545
Comments: 18
Kudos: 114





	Midsummer Stroll

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for the response to my earlier piece! I have lots of ideas for disabled!Snufkin and I'm eager to share them fjdlsj

Snufkin promised he was going to Midsummer. Moomintroll had just been so nervous asking him. Like he truly believed he would refuse. Or say he would come but only stay for twenty minutes before running off without so much as a goodbye. 

It wouldn’t hurt so much if it wasn’t accurate. 

Party preparations were well underway for the bonfire slated to begin at sundown. Moominmamma was cooking and baking up a storm. Moominpappa was fiddling with the record player. Snorkmaiden hung streamers and lights all across the yard, and, true to fashion, Little My seemed to be helping by tearing them down. 

Moomintroll emerged from the house with two chairs in each arm and a coil of baling string in his mouth. Snufkin quickly turned round and made to find cover in the trees before they could make eye contact. 

Maybe he needed to take a walk. 

Yes, that would do him good. He’d be out in the woods, able to clear his head. Maybe he’d come back with a little tune to show Moomintroll—he could pull him away from the party for a private moment and show him his new song. 

“I wrote it for you,” he’d say once he finished, and Moomintroll would blush and smile softly. He’d bring his paws up to Snufkin’s cheeks—so warm and gentle!—and lean in and—oh, he couldn’t think of this now! 

The woods! Yes, he must look at the world around him. Listen to the faint birdsong; on the wind he could hear his spring tune. Snufkin smiled softly. If he just kept walking, he would be all right and straightened out and ready for the bonfire. So, Snufkin kept walking. 

He didn’t know how far he was or how long it had been until he saw the sun fall to the west. What time was it? Likely the late afternoon. Possibly the early evening. Without his pack, Snufkin could walk for much longer. Combined with the past week being flare-up free, his stamina was much improved. But it had been a few hours. His heel and ankle on the right were starting to ache, feeling like the tendons in his body were stretched too far, like a rubber band almost ready to snap. Fortunately, Snufkin hadn’t gone very far—only to the base of the Lonely Mountains—opting for a slow and meandering path. Less fortunately, the growing pain he felt was starting to make him limp. He needed to take a break. 

He still had a few hours until the sun set. If he could just lie down somewhere for a few minutes before heading back, he would be able to muscle through the few miles back to Moominhouse. He would still be dreadfully late for the party but at least he’d make it in time for the lighting of the bonfire. Snufkin decided that was the best course of action. 

Snufkin settled in a shallow cave in the Lonely Mountains and pulled out some long strips of calico. He cursed himself for leaving his dried pouch of feverfew at his campsite, but at least he had the good sense to keep these on his person. Years ago, he used them to painfully flatten his chest. But now that he had a proper binder, the bandages were repurposed; Snufkin slowly, with practiced hands, wound the fabric around his knee and feet. The pressure helped control the swelling of his tired bones and helped keep his joints braced. All he had to do now was wait until his flare-up subsided. 

*** 

The party was splendid! Moominpappa had brought out the record player and everyone had great fun dancing together in lines and in pairs. Moomintroll danced with Mamma, Snorkmaiden, and Alicia, as well as a nervous little whomper who asked him so timidly. But the whole time Moomintroll danced, his eyes kept drifting to the forest. 

Where was Snufkin? He promised he would come. And a promise from Snufkin was a sacred thing; he rarely ever gave them, preferring to make ambiguous statements and swim in plausible deniability. 

Maybe he had changed his mind. Maybe he got nervous upon seeing the crowd. But Moomintroll thought Snufkin would at least show up for a few minutes, if only to let him know that he would not be in proper attendance. 

And that he’d at least say a goodbye. 

***

His pain would not go away. His ankles pulsated. His knees ached. His hip burned. His muscles spasmed. As Snufkin lied in the damp cave, watching the sun set, his weak fire barely warming his stiff joints, all he could think of was the party. He hoped Moomintroll was enjoying himself. Midsummer was his favorite holiday of the year. Yes, Moomintroll would be having a lovely evening full of music and dance and friends. Snufkin curled in on himself tighter. He couldn’t think of that now. He stared up at the roof of the cave and pretended the spots of light reflected on its shining surface were the stars. 

*** 

Where was Snufkin? It was nearing midnight. Moominpappa would light the bonfire soon. 

He promised he would come. Snufkin’s promises being such a rare occurrence, they were never broken. The only times Moomintroll knew he made a promise were in the early years of their friendship: Moomintroll made his friend promise he would return in the spring, to which Snufkin agreed after some hesitation. Moomintroll hadn’t realized how important promises were. But Snufkin kept it. And he kept the next one and the one after. He kept returning in the spring and Moomintroll stopped asking him to promise. He knew that Snufkin said he would return that he would follow through. Snufkin hadn’t made a promise in ages. Why would he go back on it? 

Something had to be amiss. 

As Moominpappa clinked a fork against his glass of punch, somewhat clumsily being that this was far from his first glass, Moomintroll slinked away. Little My saw. Of course she did. They held a heavy look, her and Moomintroll. But he knew she wouldn’t stop him. Little My rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the hole she was digging with a stick. Moomintroll released a breath he didn’t know he was holding and made off into the forest. 

“Snufkin? Snufkin?” Moomintroll called his name over and over again, following the small bootprints left in the soft dirt. They went to and fro with little reason. Perhaps Snufkin got lost? No, that couldn’t be. Snufkin lived in these woods for years! Moomintroll had never seen nor heard of him getting lost; he didn’t think it was possible. 

As Moomintroll tracked the prints, looking carefully for disrupted tree branches and flowers, he noticed the strides grew closer and closer together, until they looked less like walking and more like hobbling. The right foot was twisted outwards more and more prominently. Moomintroll frowned. Snufkin must be close by. His heart raced. 

And then he heard it: a faint melody on the harmonica. 

Moomintroll immediately hurried to the source of the music. It was farther than he thought. How long was Snufkin walking so horribly? Was he that desperate to get away? Moomintroll hoped he wouldn’t be mad at him for following. He felt ashamed in that moment. 

The harmonica grew louder, and Moomintroll noticed some of the notes were off-key. There were longer and more frequent pauses for breath. Every once in a while a note would fall sour, and several beats would pass before the playing resumed. Moomintroll picked up his pace. 

He saw a faint trail of smoke up ahead round the curve of the mountain and hurried after it. As he turned the corner he saw the fire and a figure in front of it, nestled in the mouth of a cave. 

_Snufkin!_

But…something was wrong. It was past nightfall, but no stewpot with the lingering scent of freshly-caught fish. His tent wasn’t set up; all his camping supplies were left by the riverbank. Only a meager fire smoldered, its light weak as it fed off of only kindling and twigs buried in ashes. And in front of the fire, barely illuminated, feebly curled up, was Snufkin. 

Something was terribly wrong. 

Moomintroll’s feet were racing underneath him, pushing him harder than his lungs could handle. He was at Snufkin’s side, seeing him struggle to sit upright. It was so hard to watch. Moomintroll just wanted to hold him and keep him safe forever. His arms almost went to embrace him, but he stopped himself, forcing himself to not make the situation worse. He started to pull away, but—

Snufkin is in his arms. His face buried in Moomintroll’s thick ruff. His small body quivered. Moomintroll gently hugged him, making sure that Snufkin would be able to release himself with ease, as he was certain to do once he realized what he’d done. 

But Snufkin didn’t pull away. He didn’t push back against Moomintroll and refuse to make eye contact with him, embarrassed and ashamed. He just held him tighter. His harmonica was digging into Moomintroll’s back, but he wasn’t going to say anything. 

He looked over Snufkin. His shoes were off, and thick bandages were wrapped around his feet over his hole-riddled wool socks. In the dim light, Moomintroll could only hope there wasn’t any blood. 

Snufkin breathed in Moomintroll’s scent: warm and sweet. “I’m sorry,” he wanted to say. But the words wouldn’t leave his lips. All he could do was knit his fingers in Moomintroll’s soft fur and hope he would understand—and more importantly, that he would forgive. 

Moomintroll felt Snufkin loosen his grip. He moved his own paws from Snufkin’s back to his shoulders, keeping him steady in case he needed the extra support. With his great green hat sitting to the side, Moomintroll could see his friend fully for the first time in years. 

Their faces were so close. Moomintroll could see the thin fur on Snufkin’s nose and brow. His coffee-brown eyes looked like honey in the firelight. And were those freckles? Oh, by the Booble. Snufkin was messy. His eyes were wet and rimmed with red, his skin sticky with dried sweat. His hair was a greasy knotted mess. And he had clearly worried his lip so hard it had bled. But in that moment, Moomintroll thought he had never seen anything so beautiful. 

He wanted to kiss him. He really wanted to kiss him. Moomintroll could feel himself slowly move in, just a hair’s breadth closer, until—he froze. He couldn’t ask that of Snufkin—not now. Not after everything he’s been through today. Snufkin had been so worried about attending the party that Moomintroll himself insisted he attend that he got himself hurt. And he was so, so hurt. He had clearly cried before Moomintroll found him. How long was he there, lying on the cold ground, barely kept warm, with an empty stomach and a parched tongue, desperately trying to stop his crying? However much it was, it was too long. No one deserved that. Least of all someone as remarkable as Snufkin. And Moomintroll made it happen.

Moomintroll’s snout was so close to his own. Snufkin could just lean forward a matter of inches, and they would be kissing. He could just… No! What was he thinking? Snufkin, in his own foolishness, pushed his body too far. He was careless, and scared Moomintroll half to death! He made him come all the way to the mountains—hours of walking—and Snufkin wants _more_ from him? He couldn’t do that to him. Moomintroll was a dear friend. A cherished friend. One who would miss his favorite party of the year to come look for Snufkin when he left him waiting. Snufkin thought he had just learned a lesson about asking for too much, wanting his body to work harder for him than it could handle, but it seems he hadn’t learned anything. 

A jolt of pain broke Snufkin’s train of thought. He winced at the throbbing in his ankle. Moomintroll immediately pulled away. Snufkin tried to believe that it was because of concern. 

“Oh, what is it? Are you okay?!” Moomintroll’s eyes were wide. 

Snufkin just shook his head. “It’s alright. I just walked too far today.” 

Moomintroll didn’t understand. How could he be so blasé about this? When Moomintroll got his own ankle sprained, he felt absolutely miserable. It was all he would think or talk about. But Snufkin sounded like he wanted to change subjects as quickly as possible. 

Snufkin opened his mouth but Moomintroll spoke first: “I was so worried about you.” 

Snufkin lowered his eyes. “I know.” 

A beat. 

In unison they spoke. “I’m sorry.” 

Snufkin and Moomintroll stared at each other. 

Moomintroll’s gaze softened, and Snufkin felt a microscopic smile creep up on his face. His face stiffened for a moment as a spasm hit his thigh, but he kept his eyes on Moomintroll. 

“It’s getting late,” the troll said, glancing at the opening of the cave. The stars were shining. 

As if on cue, Snufkin yawned. He was so tired. It must be one in the morning by now. 

“I don’t have my bedroll,” he said sheepishly. It was a warm June night, but without any blankets it was sure to feel colder. And with the cold came the stiffness and with the stiffness came greater pain. 

Moomintroll’s paws slid down from Snufkin’s shoulders to his elbows. Was that a blush creeping up on his face? 

“I can keep you warm,” he said, his voice quiet and shy, ready to be rejected. 

Oh, stars. How could Snufkin possibly say no to that? 

In answer, Snufkin rested his own paws on Moomintroll’s arms, ever so briefly, before they pulled away from each other.

Moomintroll lied down on his side and looked up to Snufkin expectantly. Snufkin slowly started to lie down beside him, his own back to the other’s front. Snufkin thought that if he were to lie down facing Moomintroll, with the way he looked under the night sky, Snufkin would do something he would regret. 

A twinge of pain and wrong motion later, Snufkin was on his side, watching the stars through the mouth of the cave. Moomintroll was so warm on his back. He could feel his breathing. He only thought it was shallow because his own was, right? 

He felt a weight on his waist. Moomintroll was holding him. It was now or never, Snufkin told himself. He rested his own paw on top of Moomintroll’s, and gently laced their fingers together. Snufkin could feel his face burning, very thankful it couldn’t be seen. Moomintroll gave his paw a gentle squeeze, and Snufkin slowly sighed. 

They could worry about getting back home tomorrow. For now, Snufkin was content to fall asleep in Moomintroll’s arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you want, follow me on tumblr @/smooth-goat for cottagecore, Moomins, and cripple punk.


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